


a dream I can call my own

by aglassfullofhappiness (mehmehs)



Series: a family that flies together (Quidditch AU verse) [4]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Finally, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, Kissing, Love, M/M, Missing Scene, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Soft Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Sweet, it's just really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehmehs/pseuds/aglassfullofhappiness
Summary: Nicky’s smiling at him, radiant, mouth red. His blush extends all the way to his chest.“Come home with me,” Joe says, and his heart swells as Nicky replies, utterly sincere,“Of course.”The aftermath of a first kiss, two years in the making.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: a family that flies together (Quidditch AU verse) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965640
Comments: 31
Kudos: 203





	a dream I can call my own

**Author's Note:**

> This is a missing scene from _a family that flies together_ , a professional Quidditch AU, but is pretty self-explanatory, I think!
> 
> Timestamp: near the beginning of Part II. Their first season together has just come to an end, and they've finally kissed for the first time.
> 
> Yet more thanks to [ harryhotspur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhotspur/pseuds/harryhotspur) and [ magpie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie) for the best on-call beta support, and [ yu_gin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yu_gin/pseuds/yu_gin) for the continued language expertise!
> 
> And yes, title is from [_At Last_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qJU8G7gR_g) by Etta James, of course 😅

When they finally get home – back to Joe’s, which feels so much like home when Nicky is there – they stop in the foyer like they’ve never crossed the threshold together before. Joe supposes they haven’t, not like _this_ , not _together_. He feels like exactly the same person and yet completely different, his life splitting into the _before_ and _after_ of Nicky kissing him for the first time. And yet, he _is_ the same, because he has felt this way about Nicky for so long it’s simply a part of him, coursing through his veins, hot enough to burn. 

He turns to look at Nicky, sunlight streaming in through the frosted glass, and finds Nicky staring at him like he’s seeing Joe for the first time all over again. They’re standing several centimetres apart, like they’re afraid to touch; they’ve carefully maintained that distance all the way from the stadium to the front door. But now they’re alone, and Joe – he can’t quite believe…

“Hey,” Nicky says, voice soft in the quiet of the house. “Are you okay?”

Joe laughs, and it’s higher than usual, a little shaky.

“Am I okay?” he repeats, and takes a step closer. “Nicky, I’m – _yes_ , I’m _okay,_ I’m so fucking – I’m so _happy_ , I…” He stops, feeling like he’s not getting enough oxygen. “Nicky, can I –?”

He moves even closer and Nicky’s breath stutters, eyes going wide. They are so close Joe can smell the soap Nicky had used during his hasty post-game shower, after Nile had interrupted them and Joe had asked him to come home. He raises a hand and cups it against Nicky’s cheek, fingers sliding into his hair, palm against his jaw. Every sensation is electric, and the way Nicky’s playoff stubble scratches against Joe’s skin makes his entire body shiver. Nicky’s eyes go heavy and he turns his head a little, lips almost against Joe’s palm. Their bodies are so close Joe could press up against him and be touching from head to toe, and the thought of that thrills him, that he _can_ now, most likely. But no – they’ve barely kissed.

Part of him wants to jump from zero to a hundred at record pace, to make up for lost time, since they already know each other so well – but another part of him wants to savour it, as slowly as possible. He wants to remember every second even as his mind spins, thoughts and feelings and sensations all mixing into one. He knows, inherent and aching, that every moment here is more precious than he can put into words. There’s no way he will be able to remember it perfectly, pure and clear and whole. It’s too much, how he feels and how Nicky looks, in awe and anticipation. So Joe closes his eyes and surrenders to it, crowds Nicky gently back against the foyer wall and kisses him again, slow enough that Nicky can back out if he wants to. Instead, Nicky’s hands find his waist and pull him in, and he tilts his head so their kiss becomes seamless, figuring each other out one soft touch at a time. Nicky’s hands smooth across his back, up his spine, fingers tensing and relaxing as Joe kisses him, and his touch burns through the thin material of Joe’s shirt, every nerve ending lighting up.

When they finally part for air, Nicky’s back is pressed against the wall, Joe slotted against his front, hands cradled around the back of Nicky’s head so it doesn’t get knocked. Nicky’s chest rises against Joe’s as he catches his breath, and Joe leans back to take him in, lips buzzing. Nicky looks dazed, eyes unfocused, lips red and shining. Joe traces Nicky’s mouth with his eyes before remembering he can _touch_ now, and so he moves one hand and brushes his thumb over Nicky’s bottom lip, feather light and soft. Nicky inhales sharply, eyes fixed on Joe, and Joe presses the back of his hand against his cheek. Nicky is blushing beautifully, and Joe’s fingers follow it down his cheek, his neck, to the collar of his t-shirt. It’s an old, well-worn favourite, and Joe curls his fingers in it, half wanting to take it off Nicky and half wanting to press his face against it.

“Joe…” Nicky says, voice hoarse, and Joe looks up at him, speechless. Maybe Nicky’s kissed all his words out of him; maybe he never needs to speak again, needing only to kiss Nicky to be understood. “Shall we…” Nicky says, and then goes even redder. “Shall we move to – your room or – the couch, I…I don’t mean to presume –”

Joe laughs and presses a kiss against Nicky’s cheek, chaste and heated all at once.

“Please,” he says, voice equally rough. “Please, presume.”

They end up on the couch because Joe doesn’t think they can make it up the stairs. Nicky keeps stopping every few steps to kiss him again, lips catching every inch of skin he can reach, landing along Joe’s cheekbones, his nose, pressed against his beard. They trip over each other onto the couch and land, Joe braced half on top of Nicky, Nicky almost flat against the upholstery.

“Is this –” Joe asks, hovering above Nicky, because it feels _different_ , to be on top of him, over him, pressing down against him. Nicky shifts under him until he’s fully horizontal, hands smoothing through Joe’s hair. He smiles, full and wide and open, and Joe smiles back, helpless.

“Perfect,” Nicky says, and pulls him down.

They kiss until their lips are numb and Joe’s arms are trembling around Nicky’s head. He’s trying very hard to remain braced above Nicky, lest he press down and just start – well – he doesn’t want to be a _complete_ teenager. Nicky seems to have a parallel sense of boundary, hands staying over the top of Joe’s shirt, smoothing over his torso but never below, and never under the fabric. Nicky’s hand closes around Joe’s arm and he frowns at the shake in it, fingers massaging over the muscle.

“That’s not good for you,” he says, and sits up. This ends with Joe basically in his lap, kneeling with his thighs bracketing Nicky’s. They’re both in loose pants, as preferred after an entire game in skin-tight Quidditch gear. Joe resolutely does not look down or dare sit any closer to Nicky’s hips. Nicky grins and presses a hand against Joe’s lower back, steadying him, while the other picks up Joe’s left hand. Nicky laces their fingers together and presses a kiss against the back of Joe’s hand.

“Hi,” he says, and it would be suave if he weren’t such a dork, and if Joe didn’t know that so well.

“Hi,” Joe says back, laughing quietly. “Who taught you to be such a romantic?”

“You did,” Nicky says, too sincere to only be joking, especially when he presses Joe’s hand against his cheek. “Joe…”

“Mm?”

Nicky looks up at him, and it’s such a beautiful angle that Joe wants to draw him, if he were able to move. That can come later – the entire summer lies ahead of them. Joe must be grinning like a maniac when he thinks about that, but Nicky just smiles back and runs his fingers over Joe’s cheek.

“Joe,” he repeats, and then clears his throat. “You’ll tell me if it’s alright, yes?”

Joe laughs.

“Of course it’s alright,” he says. “More than alright.”

Nicky pauses, expression shifting, before opening his mouth again.

“I mean – you’ll tell me if _I’m_ doing alright, yes?”

Joe tilts his head.

“Sure,” he says. “I mean –”

“Good,” Nicky says. “Because I’ve never…so I’d appreciate some direction.”

Joe pauses.

“Wait,” he says, and Nicky’s eyes narrow the tiniest amount. “As in…”

“I’ve kissed people,” he says, like he’s providing his medical history. “But not much more.” He frowns when Joe continues to stare. “What?” he says, and his tone is wary enough to jolt Joe out of his surprise.

“It’s not –” he says, and then shakes his head. “I just can’t believe…”

“Not everyone had your youthful days of fulfilling the Quidditch player stereotype,” Nicky says, and Joe squawks and bats at his shoulder.

“Firstly,” he says, “those rumours were grossly exaggerated, and _secondly_ …” He raises his hands to frame Nicky’s face. “What I can’t believe is that – it’s you, and you’re so…” He takes a breath, unable to find adequate words. “You’re _stunning_ , Nicky,” he says, and Nicky twitches like he wants to pull away. Joe hangs on; he’s not letting go until he has to. “I can’t believe no one’s ever – I mean, I’ll bet all of Italy would’ve _loved_ to –”

“Ugh, no, not that,” Nicky says, but he’s no longer frowning. “No, I just – wasn’t interested. No time. Not worth the hassle.”

“I get that,” Joe says, fingers tracing Nicky’s jawline. “I was the same, once I’d settled into the League a bit. Casual wasn’t really my style.”

“So you weren’t going through multiple fans a night?” Nicky asks, and Joe groans and lets his head drop against Nicky’s shoulder. He feels it shake under him as Nicky laughs. “Not hosting orgies with teammates, not _special_ friends with every celebrity in town?”

Joe pulls back to stare at him.

“Where did you even _get_ that?” he asks. “I thought my team had managed to scrub a lot of those rags by now.”

“What can I say,” Nicky says, looking smug. “I’m a good researcher.”

“You’re a goddamn menace, that’s what you are,” Joe mutters, and Nicky smiles up at him. “No,” Joe says, shaking his head. “I was never as wild as they portrayed me. And to be honest…” He pauses, eyes caught on Nicky’s. “I always knew. That I wanted to wait. For something…” He stops, trying to find an accurate word that wouldn’t freak Nicky out, so early on. “For someone like you,” he says, and Nicky’s expression turns wondering, arms curving around Joe to pull him closer.

“What do you mean?” Nicky asks, and it’s completely sincere, open and curious.

“Oh, _Nicolò,_ ” Joe says, because he’s been holding this in for almost two years now and suddenly he doesn’t _have_ to, anymore. “Oh my God, where do I even _start_?”

“Oh no.” Nicky’s face scrunches with laughter. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Hey, _you_ kissed _me_ ,” Joe says, raising both eyebrows, and Nicky smooths his hands down Joe’s back, soothing.

“I did,” he says, calm and assured. “But why did you kiss me back?”

Joe stares at him. It was _such_ a Nicolò Genovese move to ask for playback analysis, even while the event was still technically happening.

“Why?” Joe repeats, when it’s clear Nicky genuinely wants his response. “Nicky – are you _crazy_ – do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

He cards his fingers through Nicky’s hair, scratching against his scalp, and Nicky hums, eyelids going heavy.

“I have my suspicions,” he says, voice soft again. “Can you confirm them?”

“Good God,” Joe says, trying to think. When had he _not_ wanted to kiss Nicky? “Our first date?”

Nicky tilts his head.

“Did we…actually _have_ a first date?” he asks, forehead furrowing.

“I meant our first dinner together,” Joe says. “After you hit me.”

The lines on Nicky’s face deepen until Joe kisses them away.

“That wasn’t a _date_ ,” Nicky says, looking like he’s trying to figure out complex maths. “Was it? I just wanted to make sure you were…okay, and how you felt, and you were so… _surprising_ to me –”

“‘Surprising’?” Joe repeats, smiling. “Ooh, you really know how to flatter a man, Nicky.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nicky says, going pink. “I just mean – I didn’t realise –”

“No,” Joe says, smoothing a hand down Nicky’s neck. Now that he’s started touching him, he really can’t seem to stop. “It wasn’t an official date, we were just hanging out, I know. But if you _had_ seemed open to it then – I wouldn’t have minded.” He leans in for a moment, pressing a kiss against Nicky’s nose. “I _really_ wouldn’t have minded.”

“Wait,” Nicky says, looking flustered. “But that was – that was so long ago, and we’d _just_ met, really…” His forehead creases again. “And all I did was talk your ear off about your play! Because I’d reviewed all these tapes after the accident and just couldn’t believe I hadn’t paid more attention earlier, I mean, that kind of flight record on an automatic –” he cuts off, lip catching between his teeth. “I’m sorry about that. I was meant to be seeing how you were.”

“Nicky,” Joe says. He knows his expression is unbearably fond, and doesn’t feel like filtering it one little bit. “That’s precisely why I wanted to kiss you.”

“Because it was stroking your ego?” Nicky says, eyebrows rising, and Joe laughs.

“No,” he says, and then adds, “although that was a nice bonus.”

Nicky makes an impatient noise, and Joe leans in to kiss along his cheekbones. Nicky lets him like he’s doing Joe a favour, the bastard.

“No,” Joe says, tilting Nicky’s head up. “I wanted to kiss you then because you looked _beautiful_ , Nicky. You always do, but when you forgot to be reserved and just started _talking_ , when you were so obviously passionate and knowledgeable on everything you were saying…” Joe takes a breath, trying to slow down. “It was like watching the full moon come out on a clear night, you know?” he says, and Nicky stares at him like he wants to scoff but can’t quite manage it. “You were always so quiet and so _talented_ , obviously, but I never knew how smart you were, or how funny, or how compassionate; how much you do for people without ever expecting anything back…” He shakes his head, hands still around Nicky’s face. “Learning each new thing about you, across that season and the last,” he says, “was like discovering a new star every time. It was amazing. I just wanted to keep finding out more. It’s my favourite thing.”

He’s aware that he’s gone beyond the purview of Nicky’s question, but Nicky’s looking at him like he always does when Joe starts rambling, like he’s memorising every word. After a long moment, Nicky blinks and says,

“Well, you were always very good with your words.”

“I’m _honest_ with my words,” Joe says, and Nicky scoffs. Joe gives him a stern look. “I am when it’s with you,” he says, and Nicky doesn’t seem to be able to rebut that. He looks away for the first time, and Joe feels colder without Nicky’s eyes on him. He runs his hands down to Nicky’s collarbones, his shoulders, down his arms. “Did that answer your question?” he asks softly, and Nicky glances back, colour high on his cheeks.

“Yes,” he says, like he’s struggling to keep his voice steady. “It did, thank you.”

“Was it…what you expected?” Joe asks, because something’s not quite right and he doesn’t want Nicky to feel uncomfortable, not _now_. Joe knows he can come across strong, but Nicky’s never had a problem with that, ever –

“I…” Nicky says, and then surges up to kiss him, hands tight in Joe’s hair. It’s more intense than all their prior kisses, a little rough and more than a little desperate. Nicky has always spoken louder through actions, and Joe understands him now as clearly as if he was speaking. Nicky grasps at him, strength evident from his arms all the way to his fingers, and the meagre distance between them closes as Nicky pulls him in. He pulls his legs up and Joe slides forwards, chest to chest, hips slotting together. Nicky’s mouth drops open against his and they both groan, loud and unheeded, bodies find the other’s rhythm like they have always done, in drills and in flight and even in rest. And now this, _God –_

Nicky draws back, eyes wild, and Joe doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before Nicky is tipping them, pushing Joe back onto the couch and crawling over him, reserve forgotten, legs tangling, heartbeats thundering against each other’s. Nicky’s weight on him is deliciously grounding, tethering Joe to each moment, hyperaware of every movement and sensation, breaking new ground with every touch. Joe’s hands skates over the hem of Nicky’s t-shirt and with a frustrated noise, Nicky sits up and strips it off in one smooth motion, letting it fall over the back of the couch. He goes to lean back down but Joe stops him, keeping him upright. He can almost feel his brain leaking out of his ears.

“What?” Nicky says, shoulders tightening. This only makes his muscles shift and flex, and Joe runs a hand over his torso, palm flat against his stomach, his pecs, his collarbone. They have seen each other shirtless more times than they can remember, but never like _this_ , never when they haven’t had to look away, quick and furtive. Joe drinks in the sheer sight of him, throat dry. He is pale despite the summer, and the bruises he carries from the game, their last series, the playoffs – they stand stark against his skin, each one a different colour. A fair few are from defending the team, defending _Joe_ , without a second thought. Sometimes, the bludgers met his bat; sometimes they met him. Joe trails his fingers between the bruises on Nicky’s ribs like he’s mapping a constellation, while Nicky watches him, still and silent. Joe finds the freshest one, a dark and mottled purple, and runs a fingertip around it, gentle as possible. Nicky’s breath stutters, and Joe – because he’s too curious, because he’s a little shit – Joe presses down, just a little, just chasing his hunch. Nicky inhales sharply and Joe back off, pressing a kiss to Nicky’s sternum and looking up through his lashes.

“Sorry,” he says, and Nicky stares down at him, eyes hazy.

“It’s fine,” he says, and his voice is a little strangled. Joe grins against him, teeth brushing against his skin. Nicky whines deep in his throat as Joe starts to suck slow kisses against his ribs, a clear line against unmarked skin. His fingers skate over his bruises again and Nicky shudders, hands gripping Joe’s shoulders. Huh. Now _that’s_ interesting.

“Just ‘fine’?” Joe asks, teasing, words vibrating against Nicky’s skin, and Nicky shifts against him, pressing closer like he can’t help it.

“More than –” he says, pushing into Joe’s touch, up against his mouth. “More than fine, Joe, _fuck_ –”

Joe continues until he’s made his own marks next to the others; his, he thinks, are much prettier. His hands trace lines across the small of Nicky’s back, an open question that Nicky answers by grabbing his wrist and moving his hand down, until Joe’s got a nice handful of his ass. Nicky groans when Joe squeezes, and drops down to bury his face against Joe’s neck.

“My my,” Joe says into his ear, grinning up at the ceiling. “So forward, Mr Genovese –”

Nicky grinds down like he’s retaliating, and Joe gasps, fingers digging in. That’s them, really – always a win-win, even when they’re trying to outmanoeuvre the other. Nicky’s hands scrabble at his sides, half trying to tickle him and half trying to get his shirt off so they can be even, and Joe takes his hands off Nicky’s ass to grapple with him. It’s a bad move, of course – they both get a little too into it, and Joe bucks hard enough to send Nicky flailing.

“Oh, shit –” Nicky manages to say before he’s tipping sideways. Joe grabs for him, but he needn’t have bothered; their legs are still tangled and Nicky drags him over too, both of them landing hard on the carpet. The air rushes out of Nicky’s lungs as Joe lands on top of him, and he scrambles up, hand around the back of Nicky’s head.

“You okay?” he asks, too worried to hide it. He’d never live it down if Nicky injured himself during a _make-out,_ for God’s sake.

Nicky pulls a face, stretching against the carpet, but he’s grinning.

“Make it up to me,” he says, and Joe laughs, almost incredulous. For someone so new to this particular game, Nicky was already a top performer. Typical.

“How about we start with an actual bed?” Joe asks, and Nicky’s gaze darkens, tongue running over his bottom lip.

“Sounds reasonable,” he says, and allows Joe to help pull him to his feet, slower than usual. It’s only then that Joe remembers they’d just finished an entire goddamn season, and with a Game Seven playoff game at that. He’s got so much adrenaline coursing through him he’s not even aware of all his aches and pains yet, but he knows it’ll come. Nicky grimaces as he stands, bones cracking, and Joe winces in sympathy.

“Bed,” he says, and takes Nicky by the hand.

Aside from barging in to hassle him for being late, Nicky still hasn’t spent a lot of time in Joe’s room. It had been the final threshold; their pretence that they weren’t what they are, long before Nicky had kissed him. Joe closes the door quietly behind them and watches Nicky take in the room: his belongings, the bed. He spots something on the back of a chair and laughs, picking it up.

“So that’s where it went,” he says, holding up one of his old hoodies. Joe pretends to look innocent, and Nicky walks back to kiss him, gentle again. “It looks good on you,” he says, and Joe takes it from him and nudges him back towards the bed.

“You look good without it,” he says, and Nicky rolls his eyes, hands pulling at Joe’s shirt. They climb into bed together, both finally shirtless, and curl towards each other, foreheads brushing.

“Hi,” Nicky says again, eyes running over Joe’s torso. He rests his fingers on Joe’s chest, and Joe presses his hand over Nicky’s. His heart beats under both their palms, quick but steady.

“Hi,” Joe says, and then barely manages to hold in a yawn. “Oh, no –”

“My God,” Nicky says even as he fights his own yawn. “I’m boring you already? I may as well _leave_ –”

“Don’t you dare,” Joe says, and shuffles in to wrap an arm over Nicky’s chest. His face fits perfectly into the crook of Nicky’s neck, and he presses kisses against the soft skin there, making Nicky laugh and squirm away.

“Alright, alright,” he says, as if he’d ever been considering it. “I _guess_ I’ll stay.”

“Mm,” Joe says, eyes closing. Maybe it’s a Pavlovian thing; his body’s too used to relaxing around Nicky when they’re lying down, ready for pre-game naps. Nicky manoeuvres them until they’re under the duvet, before turning so Joe’s wrapped around him, like he always is.

“Nap first, resume later?” he asks, like they’re scheduling a calendar invite. It’s still the most romantic thing Joe has ever heard.

“Yes please,” he mumbles against Nicky’s neck. “We have all summer.”

“Yes,” Nicky says, “ _e il resto della nostra vita._ ”

His last words are so soft Joe doesn’t quite catch them, and they’re too fast for him to translate.

“What?” he tries to ask, but he’s already half-asleep by that point, fatigue smoothing over him like a gentle hand. The last thing he feels is Nicky lacing their fingers together and kissing the back of his hand, smiling against his skin.

They may have lost playoffs, but Joe has never felt so victorious in his life.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> “ _e il resto della nostra vita_ ” – and the rest of our lives together ❤️ 
> 
> I swear after this I will focus again on mainfic and the actually-planned sidefics (i.e. rookie!Nicky prequel etc.). But I needed some catharsis from all the pining in the Christmas sidefic, and also some softness for the closing of 2020. I hope this brought you some warmth for the festive season. Take care, my friends 🤍
> 
> All feedback welcome 😊


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